The Cramps - Stay sick (full)

Take a woman, tell her you love her... and sing her the songs of the Cramps.

And then just wait to see what happens.

Stay Sick! brings the erotic charge of the Cramps to unreachable heights.

Lux Interior's slobbering sobs are the exacerbation of Elvisian moans from the bars of the Heartbreak Hotel, and Ivy's touch has become a fisting of the rockabilly body, a hand that digs deep towards "the center of the woman," with a sensuality that fully surrenders to the body-object pornography, the genital anatomy, the linguistic paroxysm, the orgiastic simulation of animal coitus.

The Cramps are here and they make us.

They bring their instinct-driven universe to the audience.

They know that the morally upright will turn away. And they quicken their escape.

It is on this balance between authenticity and parody that the crampsian sound stands, which Stay Sick! reaffirms as both animalistic and caricatural.

Their jungle is always the one infested with buzzing human flies (Saddle Up a Buzz Buzz), scaly creatures (The Creature from the Black Leather Lagoon), primordial sins (All Women Are Bad), glottological nonsense born from the lexicon of Richard Penniman and Trashmen (Mama Oo Pow Pow) and vulgar rewritings of the worst abominations of rock 'n' roll (Shortnin’ Bread and Bop Pills, a calypso sliced vertically using the Ramrod riff like a chainsaw).

Thank you, Cramps.

For all this Damned Rock 'n' Roll.

For all these things that do not save the soul.

Because we are all Adam and Eve when we put on your music.

The Rev